Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht
by Nights Mistress
Summary: Percy, having watched his sister fade into a battered black book she carries everywhere, confronts it in a desperate attempt to save her. The source however is unimpressed with Gryffindor bravery and proceeds to use him in a manner much like his sister.


**Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht******

Percy remembered his sixth year. Sixteen was such an awkward age; of gangly limbs, spots and hormones. It had not been a kind age for someone as high-strung as Percy.

It had been Ginny's first year, an event he had been quietly anticipating for years. The twins had each other, Ron had fallen in with Harry Potter and they had never needed him. Not so with Ginny. She had gazed at him with adoring eyes and begged him to tell her about Hogwarts. Percy would spin his tales, hoping that the delight and wonder he felt would carry across in such cumbersome things as words. Judging by the excitement when Ginny received her letter, he had managed to convey at least a shadow of how he perceived Hogwarts.

He heard her name being called and looked up expectantly for the inevitable sorting into Gryffindor. The seconds stretched into minutes and if he squinted, he could see Ginny's pale face and bloodless lips moving silently. Finally, the hat pronounced "GRYFFINDOR," although it didn't sound as confident as usual. Perturbed, Percy watched as Ginny sat with the other first years and resolved to keep an eye on her this year. He glanced quickly around the table for the distinctive flame that was the Weasley hair colour. Fred and George were sitting with Lee Jordan, heads bent and whispering conspiratorially, he knew where Ginny was, but where was Ron? He could see Hermione Granger worry at her lower lip but he couldn't see Ron, or Harry for that matter. Obviously, Harry had gone looking for trouble and dragged Ron into it. Percy didn't dislike Harry, not really, but his penchant for trouble was unnerving to say the least. At the end of the feast, he raised his concerns to Professor McGonagall, who told him that both were fine and were waiting in the common room. Percy repressed a sigh at the prospect of keeping an eye on those two.

The long school weeks passed and Percy watched in concern as Ginny's vibrancy seemed to fade; the contrasting red hair and pale skin washing to watercolour. It was if her life was draining into that black book she carried everywhere, writing in it compulsively. Percy knew his parents hadn't bought it for her; it was much too expensive for them to afford. There was barely enough money for them to buy food for them all, let alone such superfluous items as a book unnecessary for classes. Her wand, which had to be bought new because none of the second hand ones worked for her, had hit their finances hard and as such there was no possibility of that diary having been bought by them. It was an enigma and Percy adored solving mysteries.

He recruited the assistance of a fellow prefect, Penelope Clearwater, to whom he had been writing to for some time. It had been a purely platonic relationship, or so he thought until she asked him out between classes. Startled by the turn of events, he stammered something that could be interpreted as an assent. He wasn't sure if he loved her with the fiery passion of youth but she provided a quiet companionship, something that was lacking in the Weasley household.

She confirmed his suspicions about Ginny's unusual behaviour and both tried to talk to her about it at different times. Both were brushed off with either a strained "I'm fine," or by Ginny just walking away. Penelope advised giving up, arguing that Ginny didn't want their help, but Percy refused. He had sworn to keep an eye on Ginny, and that he would do. 

He took Ron aside one evening and asked if he could talk to Ginny about her change in manner. Ron had shrugged gormlessly and muttered something about having no idea what Percy was talking about. Percy had bitten back an angry retort as Ginny had drifted into the common room; her face blank and abstracted, her dark eyes wide and dreamy and that unnervingly familiar black book clutched to her chest. She wandered past them as if she didn't see them and up into the girls' dormitories.

"Look at her!" he had hissed to Ron who stared at him in confusion.

"There's nothing wrong with her," Ron replied. Unconvinced, Percy had owled their parents with his concerns. They complimented him for watching out for her, but dismissed his fears as being overprotective, as surely Ginny would have told them if something was wrong. Incensed, he swore to prove it to them that something was severely wrong with Ginny.

The problems had only begun when that damned book appeared and it was a relatively easy intuitive leap to assume that the book was the stem of it all. Getting it from Ginny was surprisingly simple; as she left it in the common room the day that Filch's cat was petrified. Ginny was quite distraught about it, more so then was to be expected. Her robes were stained with a thickening red fluid that left marks on the furniture, which Percy examined with a frown.

Picking the book up, he weighed it in one hand, flipped through its pages and turned it inside out. The only writing on it at all was a name, TM Riddle, printed in gold leaf on the back. He wondered absently why an ex-head boy's diary was in Ginny's possession and why would someone have enchanted it?

Opening it to a fresh page, Percy dipped a quill in ink and wrote in his neat handwriting _'What are you?'_ He watched impassively as the ink disappeared into the page and reformed into new letters.

_'You're not Ginny_' was written in neat copperplate. Percy repressed a smirk and replied _'No. Obviously you know my sister, so who are you? What are you doing to her?'_

_'Such concern!__ Evidently, you're not one of the "ignorant twins" or the "hurtful Ron." You must be Percy, the darling of her brothers. And yet you never worked it out, that I have entangled my fingers in her soul for so long?'_

_'I knew, but could not act until now. I want to bargain with you. Take me in her place. Let her go!'_ Percy's handwriting became more hurried as he pressed down on the quill. The tip broke off, the sharp edges nicking one of his fingers. Blood smeared onto the page and disappeared, albeit more slowly. Percy shivered at the mental image of a tongue lasciviously licking the paper, savouring the taste of his blood.

_'No._' Just like that, a flat refusal. Percy could have wept in sheer frustration. He moved to shut the book when a languid trail of ink slowly appeared.

_'Maybe you do have something to offer, Percy Weasley. A sixth-year prefect, candidate for head boy, or so Ginny tells me. You must be about sixteen. So, Percy, do you have a girlfriend? A boyfriend perhaps?'_

_'None of your business!'_ Percy wrote messily, the ink smudging and smearing because of the broken nib. He didn't know what Ginny had told him, how much an eleven year old could understand. He hoped, no, prayed that she knew nothing.

_'Ah, but it is my business. You do want to save dear little Ginny, don't you? Answer my questions. Ever looked at the boys in your dormitory while they undressed? Were you aroused by their nudity, Percy?'_

_'Stop it!_' Percy was near tears and he scrubbed furiously at his eyes. His hands, stained with ink and blood, left dark streaks around his eyes and nose.

_'Answer the questions!'_ His unknown tormentor demanded, his neat copperplate degenerating into a scrawl.

_'I have a girlfriend, you know,'_ Percy evaded, hoping that this titbit of information would stop this interrogation.

_'You're evading' _the book taunted. _'I know when you lie. And you, most assuredly, are lying. You have looked at them, I know it. And it disgusts you, You abhor that aspect of yourself.'_

_'What does this have to do with Ginny?'_

_'Why, everything, sweet naïve Percy.__ I'll free your sister, in exchange for you. Do you agree?'_

_'Yes,'_ Percy wrote firmly. Tears dripped from his cheekbones onto the paper, which drank it eagerly. Percy frowned at that, remembering that many wizards' oaths were strengthened by the usage of the wizard's blood and tears. It was too much to hope for that this entity didn't know about that.

_'Blood and tears?__ My, you are determined. Very well.'_ The pages flapped as if caught in a stiff breeze, a movement that stopped when a predetermined page was found. Light began to stream out of the book, concentrated at the spine and radiating to the edges of the pages. Percy felt his eyes widen as he fell through the light and into the page. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He pulled out his wand but some instinct prevented him from lighting it. A high, amused chuckle sounded behind him and Percy whirled around, wand prepared.

"Expelliarmus," a quiet voice commanded and Percy's wand was ripped from his grasp. A soft whisper of cloth, long fingers wrapped around his shoulder and warm lips brushed against his ear. "Remember, you agreed to this," the voice whispered, breath tickling his hair. Closing his eyes, Percy nodded.

*

Once ejected from the diary, Percy closed its cover and staggered up to the dormitory. Once there, he pulled the curtains around his bed closed, cast a silencing charm and wept like a broken hearted child.

He heard his dorm-mates come in and their opinions about what the closed curtain signified. General consensus was that Percy was indulging in a long overdue wanking session and shouldn't be interrupted mid-business. Percy laughed at that, a bitter laugh interspersed with sobs. He doubted that he could consider anything to do with sex for the rest of his life. He'd be the first celibate Weasley, an oddity to be discussed in the same pitying tone that was used in relation to the only accountant in the family.

He laughed harder at that thought, verging dangerously close to hysteria. The boy had whispered to him in a voice laced in shadows that he would see Percy 'soon.' Percy doubted that he would be allowed to avoid the boy. They had been bound together in the diary, magic bound to magic, life to life, to ensure the survival of the boy. It was dark arts of the worst kind, the perversion of a symbiontic bond, and Percy wished he could break the ties between them. Unfortunately, Gilderoy Lockhart knew more about fashion then actual Dark Arts, and Percy had no method in which to free himself.

Percy walked through Hogwarts in a daze, fey look on his face eerily akin to his sister's. The boy's voice whispered in his head, driving him to insanity, telling him of the noble work that they could do together. Penelope found him in a disused Charms classroom sobbing hysterically. She put it down to stress and drew him into an embrace. Percy didn't correct her. Over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of long red hair as its owner darted out of sight.

He confronted Ginny later and made her promise not to tell anyone. She had agreed readily, staring at him with hurt and bewildered eyes that asked silently why he was extracting such an oath from her. Percy desperately wanted to tell her why, but he had to protect Penelope from _him_.

The year continued and _his_ fingers slid further into Percy's soul. He would wake up in Muggle Studies and stare at handwriting that was not his own or receive assignments back that he was confident he had not written. Occasionally he dreamed of yelling at the twins, lecturing Ron, writing letters home, all very mundane. Normally he would have worried about this, but he was so tired. He spent the days feeling as if he was underwater and he would literally collapse into bed every night.

He remembered standing in front of a mirror, horrified by what he saw. His eyes had faded to the light grey of splintering glass and were as lively. His hair, normally a riotous tangle of curls was lank and lifeless, the copper and rust highlights dulling to an auburn. He punched the mirror, the glass shattering explosively, showering him with shards. Picking up a large shard, he closed his fingers around it then let it go. Fascinated, he stared at the crimson blood pulsing from his ruined hand, faintly surprised that it did not seem to fade like the rest of him.

He could have stood there all day, absorbed in the blood dripping from his hand onto the bathroom floor, but for Oliver Wood, who had come in to clean the mud from his wrist guards. He had taken one look at the scene and dragged a passive Percy to Madam Pomfrey, who quickly healed the cuts and gave him a potion for 'nerves.' He drank it dutifully, knowing he would vomit it back up later.

The attacks continued and Percy began to wonder. Why hadn't Ginny told anyone about the diary? Unless…no, she was free. They had agreed! If a wizard's word couldn't be believed, then what could?

Penelope was petrified before a Quidditch match and the chorus of voices in Percy's head rose in volume. He didn't remember attending his classes. Maybe he hadn't. All he knew was that he had failed to protect either Ginny or Penelope and that he had been betrayed. He had sworn a vow, and _he _had managed to circumvent it.

"Get the book!" the voices screamed and Percy cowered in the recesses of his mind. When he withdrew, the diary was open in front of him and a quill rested in the inkpot. He reached out a shaky hand and began to write.

_'You lied to me!'_ His handwriting wavered unsteadily over the page, a degenerate scrawl. _'You said I would take Ginny's place!'_

_'I need you both at the moment. You haven't sacrificed enough yet, dear Percy, to substitute for her. Did you know she cries for you at night? Begs you to save her? You know what I want.'_

_'Yes,'_ Percy replied and closed his eyes.

*

"Soon," the boy breathed. "Soon I'll be free of this wretched diary." Percy could hear the smirk in the boy's voice and kept very still. "Ah yes. Before I forget. Bone, blood, breath and soul, you belong to me, Percy Ignatius Weasley. Never forget that. Now go!"

The weeks passed in fever dreams; of patrol duty, Penelope's frozen fear and Ginny clutching the diary. The serpentine voices shouted and screamed in his head, allowing no external interruptions. Obviously, he was possessed by the boy, the Parseltongue who hissed in his mind of what he would accomplish once alive. Half of his ideas were mad, all were evil and Percy was forced to listen to them all.

It was too late to seek aid from one of the professors, had been too late since he had put pen to paper. His life was spooling out of him via the trail of ink into the vampire of the pages, who in turn was siphoning his life into Percy. It was difficult to tell now where Percy begun and the entity ended. Eventually all of Percy would reside in the diary and he didn't want to think about what would happen to his body. He had heard legends of golems, mindless bodies stumbling and shuffling gracelessly, and had seen a victim of dementors once. It was not an appealing image, but he was helpless to prevent it.

"Today's the day!" the voices crowed, carolling their triumph to their coerced listener. Percy flinched and Professor Vector looked up, solicitous expression on her face. She frowned slightly as she took in his pale and sweaty face, wide eyes and lack-lustre hair.

"Alright, Mister Weasley?" she asked, concern evident in her Irish lilt. Percy nodded faintly, but she remained unconvinced. He was saved from a well-meant interrogation by an announcement for all students to return to their dormitories. Professor Vector rushed to the staff room while Percy trudged wearily to Gryffindor Tower.

It was slow going, as Percy was hampered by his vision persistently greying out and being forced to stop and wait for his vision to clear. By the time he arrived at the common room, Professor McGonagall was standing in front of the fireplace, back very straight and lips thin enough to cut paper. He slipped inside the room and prayed to whatever deity would listen. He normally wasn't the religious sort, seeing it as a security blanket for scared children, but if it helped, then he would be quite happy to renounce his agnostic views.

"Ginny Weasley has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets," she began. Percy felt the blood drain from his face. He staggered on buckling knees into the sixth year dorms. No one stood in his way, although he did receive his share of sympathetic looks. He didn't want their sympathy. Not now. Not ever. 

"It's not enough," the Parseltongue snarled, overtones riddled with hissing snakes. "She's too weak, I have to take from you too." Percy swayed dizzily as his energy seemed to disappear. He closed his eyes and felt himself fall forward.

When he awoke, he could hear from the common room that once again Harry Potter had saved the day. Percy staunched the flow of blood from his nose, which he had bloodied from the fall, and collapsed into bed. For the first time in months, he did not dream of blood and fire, serpents, pain and death. 

The voices in his head died to a hollow whisper, one that spasmodically taunted him, pointing out the similarities between itself and Percy. He concentrated on his exam revision, which drowned it out. This had a fortunate effect on his results.

The frequency of the whispers decayed, to the point that there were rarely any comments at all. The very last thing the voice said to him was after he received the letter announcing that he was head boy.

"You and I are not so different, Percy. Both head boys, intelligent and oh so ambitious. Remember me, for I will remember you."

*

When Minister Fudge said that Lord Voldemort had not returned, Percy fervently wanted to believe him. During the holidays between his sixth and seventh years, he had been horrified to find out that the diary had been possessed by Tom Riddle, the future dark lord himself. He couldn't be back, for if he were, he would remember. Remember a gawky, red-haired adolescent boy who wore horn-rimmed glasses and what he did in a desperate attempt to save his sister.

Intellectually he knew that Voldemort was back, but he didn't want to believe it. He had always been good at self-denial.

Not every victim of Tom Riddle wore their scars on the outside.

**Authors Note**: The title is from the poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, entitled 'die Erlkonig.' (The Elf King) and means 'The words the elf king now breathes in my ear.' It is a very, very cool poem, and oddly apt for this story.

The idea for this story came as I was reading OotP. I spent the whole time wondering "Why does Percy believe some incompetent over the boy he's known for years?" This was my answer.


End file.
